The Softer Side of Leaping
by Taramisu
Summary: Some problems in Sunnydale can’t be fixed by its resident Scooby Gang. (Quantum Leap/BtVS crossover) S/B


Title: The Softer Side of Leaping Author: Taramisu Email: taramisu@channelingboards.com Summary: Some problems in Sunnydale can't be fixed by its resident Scooby Gang. (Quantum Leap/BtVS crossover) S/B Spoilers: Through the end of S6 Disclaimer: Not a single one of these characters is mine. If they were, I wouldn't be living in a house without a kitchen, heat or a/c. Rating: PG A/N: Thanks be to the betas: Jacqueline and Melissa Feedback: Give it or I stake you. Got it?  
  
  
  
Her room was that of a child's: frilly lace, pastels, stuffed animals and trinkets upon the dresser, its innocence betrayed only by the stench of grief and stashes of weapons in every nook and cranny. The Summers' house was quiet today. It was actually quiet every day.lately. But that was soon to change.  
  
From the bed of childhood came a small flicker of light, quickly growing into a large flicker, then bursting into a huge blue ball of static energy. The image of a human became apparent as the flickering light faded away. After the last vestige of energy had dissipated, a male form sat naked upon the bed.  
  
Sam looked down at his nude form, blushing brightly. Thank goodness he was alone. He had time to dress. There. A dresser. He hopped off the bed, maneuvering his way to the piece of furniture and opened the bottom drawer. He stared in that drawer for a while, and then reluctantly pulled out a green, lace thong. This was accompanied by a heavy sigh as he spoke out loud to himself, "Not a woman again!"  
  
Sam quickly gave up on the idea of finding normal underwear, and went straight to the closet, praying for something suitable to wear. "Please, no halter tops. Please, no short skirts," he asked of the closet. A short survey of the hanging items was not pleasing him. "Does this woman have no modesty?" But, before he could complete his task, the door slammed open. Sam froze in embarrassment as a teenage girl's eyes scanned the room, then settled on him.  
  
"What are you doing down there, Mr. Gordo?" The brown haired girl picked him up and set him back on the bed.  
  
"Buffy!" The girl's shriek pierced his ears. "If you're not downstairs in two minutes for pancakes, I'm letting Miss Kitty Fantastico eat Mr. Gordo!"  
  
Could his ears actually be bleeding, he wondered? Wait. Eat? Gordo? What was she talking about? Sam looked up, noticing the mirror across from the bed, but did not see his reflection in it. "Oh, God. I'm not a vampire again, am I?" He moved his left arm, only to see a little stuffed pig waving back at him. But before panic from this discovery could sink in, the cat, who had to be 'Miss Kitty Fantastico,' bounded into the room.  
  
"Oh boy."  
  
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Dawn's whistling, as she made funny face pancakes, drowned out the sounds of a struggle from the room above.  
  
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Sam stood up, balanced precariously on the twin-size mattress. He held his arms out in front of him, and spoke to the cat with urgency. "Now, you don't want to eat me, little kitty. Good kitty." The cat hissed. "Nice kitty?" The cat, fresh out of patience, pounced.  
  
Fortunately for Sam, but unfortunately for Miss Kitty, he was able to back fist the cat's nose in mid-leap, leaving a properly confused and frightened feline to scat away, out of the room and down the stairs.  
  
The man/pig sighed a sigh of relief, and then flopped back onto the bed, resuming his inspection of his reflection. Four hooves, two floppy ears, pink fur and a big ol' snout. "Oh, no, no, no."  
  
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, Sam." Sam jumped at Al's voice, then wondered if he would ever get used to Al sneaking up on him like that.  
  
"Will you just stop sneaking up on me like that?"  
  
"Sorry, Sam. I came in and you were involved in a little." Al snickered. ".cat fight." He guffawed out loud.  
  
Sam was not nearly as amused. "Ha, ha. Very funny. Now, just tell me what I'm doing here so I can get out of this.toy!"  
  
"I don't know what you're so upset about. You're a sweet little thing, Sam. I like the tail." Al looked around to Sam's back end, indicating the little spiral of cloth, which prompted Sam to do the same. When he couldn't see it, he just sighed and gave Al a look of frustration.  
  
"Stop enjoying this, would you?"  
  
Al composed himself, slowly, then consulted his hand link. "Okay. Ziggy says there is a young woman by the name of Buffy Summers.who." Al smacked the device, then continued. ".is going to end up in an in." He screwed up his face in confusion. "An Inn? Well, that's not so bad." He hit it more forcefully this time. "Oh! An institution. Buffy will end up in an institution. Gee. That's too bad."  
  
Sam looked up at Al wearily. "Buffy. This is Buffy's room. I must have just met her sister.and her cat." He took a deep breath. "An institution? It looks like she's well on her way there already. Look at all these weapons!"  
  
Al paced the room, peering into every corner. "Crossbows, swords, daggers, axes, and, ooh. Look." Al turned back to Sam, pointing at a small bottle of water and a piece of wood. "Wooden stakes and holy water!"  
  
Sam's eyebrows knitted together. "Stakes?"  
  
"Yeah. Stakes. She must think she's fighting vampires." They both shook their heads.  
  
Al returned to his hand link. "Well, according to her psychiatrist's records, she claimed she was in love with two vampires and had to kill them both. After the second time, she just went a little cuckoo."  
  
"In love with vampires." Sam looked at his hologram with humored disbelief. "Al. What is wrong with Ziggy? This makes no sense."  
  
"Ziggy is just fine, Sam. This Buffy girl must really be off her rocker." He looked at the gadget once again. "She says there were never any bodies found to corroborate her story, but she swears to this day she killed her boyfriends."  
  
Sam threw his little, chubby arms in the air. "Fine. What do I have to do?"  
  
"Well, we don't really know. According to her diary, the incident occurs tonight with the second boy, the one who pushed her over the proverbial edge. I would venture to guess you have to stop her from killing him."  
  
Sam was beginning to sound more and more irritated. "What can I possibly do as a stuffed pig, Al? This is ridiculous. What? Am I going to cuddle her into better mental health?"  
  
Al did not respond, but immersed himself in a flurry of whacking the hand link and swearing. "Maybe it is Ziggy. She says this town, Sunnydale, is on a 'hellmouth', and Buffy is the 'layer'. Layer?!" smack "Slayer. Slayer?! She's a vampire slayer?"  
  
The two men (well, man/pig and man) stared at each other until Al finally broke the silence. "Well, you did leap into a vampire once. Ziggy could be right."  
  
"Oh, no!" Sam violently shook his head, causing pink ears to flop around. "Oh, no, no, no. This is not happening. I want out of this crazy leap."  
  
"Not until you keep Buffy from staking her vampire lover." Al snickered.  
  
Al may have been able to find humour in the situation, but Sam wasn't buying.  
  
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"Home, sweet home." A very battered motorcycle ran into Sunnydale's welcome sign. Its rider flew over the handlebars, landing behind the sign and into a group of thorny bushes.  
  
"Bloody hell!"  
  
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"Buffy? Are you alright?" Dawn looked worriedly at her sister, who was scrubbing the same plate for the fourth time.  
  
"Yeah. Just thinking."  
  
"Should we call the fire department?"  
  
Buffy failed to respond promptly, but finally regeistered her sister's words. "What? Fire dep.oh, you mean the smoke coming out of my ears from thinking too hard. Hardy, har, har." Buffy put down the dish and joined Dawn at the table.  
  
"When did everything decide to change, Dawny?"  
  
It was a rhetorical question, which Dawn knew better than to answer.  
  
"I mean, one day, you're a regular girl, fighting with your little sister over the last donut, and looking forward to the school dance. The next day you're the Slayer, who's fighting for her life every day and looking forward to the next non-apocalyptic day." She sighed, then shook herself out of her reverie. "Sorry." She put her hand on Dawn's. "Shouldn't draw you with your experimental dinner attitude into my self pity. Bad Buffy." At that, she slapped her own hand.  
  
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments until Dawn unexpectedly slapped her sister in the forehead softly. Buffy looked up, a question in her eyes.  
  
"You know, Buff. Life is like a box of chocolates."  
  
The elder held her hand up toward Dawn and grinned. "Oh, no. No Gumpisms."  
  
"No, listen." Dawn smiled, sitting herself up straighter, preparing to impart some wisdom upon her depressed sister. "Some days you pick the cherry, with all its gooey goodness. You bite inside, and the cherry pops, and flavor explodes in your mouth. That's a good day. You spend the rest of your life searching for another cherry. But mostly, you bite in and get a cream-filled. Blech. Not especially good. You'd rather have a cherry, but now you've got this white fluff with no taste. Sometimes you eat it. Other times you put the uneaten half aside, hoping to pick up a cherry next time."  
  
Buffy rested her head on her hand, paying particular interest to the 'wisdom of Dawn.'  
  
"But then, one day, you pick up a toffee candy, and WOW! You never knew these existed, and they're even better than the cherries. You gobble it down, and before you know it, you start passing up cherries just hoping you'll find another toffee. Then, one day, you do. You pick it up." Dawn picked up an imaginary object. ".take a deep breath in preparation for its crunchy goodness." She put 'it' up to her nose and sniffed. ".then bite in, and." Buffy was leaning in, completely engrossed. ".OUCH! You break a tooth." They both frowned.  
  
"You're not going anywhere with this, are you?"  
  
Dawn licked the imaginary chocolate off her fingers. "Nope."  
  
After their lighthearted laughter subsided, Dawn came clean. "It means: don't be depressed about the 'blech' days. At least they aren't filled with maggots."  
  
"That was truly disturbing, Dawn."  
  
"Thank you. I aim to please."  
  
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He had lost track of the miles. The entire trip consisted of counting them, but now he had forgotten the total. Bottom line: here he was. Home again. Home. Home is where the heart is. Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. Okay. So, maybe he'd have to stop calling Sunnydale 'home.'  
  
Lost in thought, Spike wandered the streets. His plan had been to seek out Buffy, tell her the news, and grovel at her feet. Sure, love was out of the question, but forgiveness would make him the happiest man in the world.  
  
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"And another one bites the dust..." His singing had never been so off key-- and that was really saying something. "And another one's gone, and another one's gone." Peanut butter and jelly. Bears and honey. Pigs and mud. Xander and beer.  
  
He just couldn't seem to pull his life together after the Anya incident. She wouldn't forgive him. And more importantly, he couldn't forgive himself. So, he had decided to deal with his problems the only way he knew how.  
  
".another one bites the dust." The streets of Sunnydale were once again in danger.of deafness.  
  
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Dawn was just trying to watch late night TV. She had her remote, her Pepsi and her popcorn. But there was one thing missing. What could it be? Oh, yeah. "QUIET!!"  
  
It was bad enough that Buffy had flaked on TV night, but did she have to make all that racket up there? It sounded like she was throwing every heavy object in her room against the wall.  
  
At her sister's failure to follow the politely delivered instruction.er.suggestion, Dawn ascended the stairs to find out what she was up to. Dawn stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of Buffy throwing every heavy object in her room against the wall. "What are."  
  
"Mr. Gordo! Where is he?"  
  
'Uh oh,' Dawn thought.  
  
"He was here, right here on the bed." Buffy pointed to the spot where Mr. Gordo has resided for the last six years, then threw her arms in the air. "Where? Where is he!?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Buffy's head whipped around to look at Dawn.  
  
"Maybe Miss Kitty ate him."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. Cats don't eat polyester."  
  
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On a dark, deserted street, a vampire stood in deep contemplation. Left, or right? That way to Buffy's house, or that way to.not Buffy's house? Never before had he felt so pathetic. A vampire of his fame, balking over a simple confrontation. He sighed, then sat down on the curb, his face resting on his hands. In Spike's mind, a great war raged.  
  
"Get up, you wanker."  
  
"Oh, what's the point? You'll just end up with a stake in your chest for your troubles."  
  
"Get up, you bloody wanker!"  
  
"Why bother?"  
  
"Get up, you bloody sorry excuse for a wanker!"  
  
"HELP!!"  
  
A woman's piercing scream interrupted his internal conversation. It came from behind him in that dark, musty alley. How any person could live to adulthood in Sunnydale, yet still not have learned to stay the bloody hell out of alleyways was a mystery to him.  
  
The bint was short and sweet: blonde with perky breasts and a nice set of legs. Her attacker: your everyday, run of the mill mugger, complete with ski mask, running shoes, gun and a soul. Standard issue, Spike guessed.  
  
Unfortunately, the second the gun wielding mugger saw Spike, he shot at him, then turned tail and fled. The bullet just missed, and the woman, having perhaps skipped breakfast that morning, began to faint. As Spike caught the fainting woman, he failed to notice Xander, who was standing at the opening to the alley.  
  
Although he was drunk as a skunk, Xander clearly saw a man running away from a blonde vampire who was apparently eating the man's girlfriend. And, had he actually possessed any equilibrium, he may have run into the fray to save the young woman. Instead he bent over, tossed his cookies, then passed out.  
  
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When he awoke, Xander knew what needed to be done. Spike was back. He was feeding. Buffy had to know. That vamp was about to become one very dusty dust bunny.  
  
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Buffy slammed down the phone, knocking the whole apparatus onto the floor with a crash. "I'm going out, Dawn. Be back before you know it!"  
  
It was the Slayer. She was unmistakable. Don't mess with her. Don't stand in her way. She was Ms. All Business. And after a phone call like that, from a hung-over friend, God help her intended target.  
  
Dawn took the stairs three at a time. "Buffy? What is it? Can I help?"  
  
Buffy put on her Slayer face and did what she did best. Make up a plausible denial.  
  
"No. It's nothing. Just a little pest problem I should have taken care of years ago. Nothing to worry about, Dawny. Not a thing to worry about. Just call me Buffy, the Orkin Man." She grabbed one lone stake and gloriously flew out the front door. Behind her, Dawn grasped the doorframe in fear. She hadn't seen that exact face since.since.Acathla. Whatever had Buffy so worked up was in grave danger.  
  
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"Are you sure this is where it happens?"  
  
"Sam, when am I ever sure of anything?"  
  
"You have a point there." Sam looked around the creepy mausoleum, complete with sarcophagus, cobwebs, old statue, and beer refrigerator. Wait a minute. Refrigerator?!  
  
"Man, I hope this guy's really a vampire. I'd hate to think anyone would voluntarily live in this.tomb." Al looked around, comfortable in the knowledge that it was all just a hologram to him.  
  
Al finally turned his attention to Sam to dole out some last minute advice. "Now, remember. Don't let them know you're alive, okay?"  
  
"Like an animated stuffed animal is going to faze these people." Sam raised an eyebrow at Al.  
  
"Well, it wouldn't do to make Buffy think you're a demon or something. She's likely to.stake you too."  
  
Al turned away from Sam, his shoulders spasming.  
  
"Al? Al?! Cut it out. Stop laughing!"  
  
The last sounds Sam heard from Al before he disappeared into the imaging chamber were a snort and one more giggle.  
  
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Before long, the heavy stone door creaked open, followed by a very blonde man in black jeans and a black t-shirt. The man sauntered in, grabbed a blister pack of red fluid from the fridge, then flopped onto a well-used recliner. He seemed to be enjoying that red stuff. 'Tomato juice?' Sam wondered, in complete denial.  
  
The man sang, he hummed, and he licked his fingers after finishing the juice. All the while, Sam remained perched upon the sarcophagus, bored out of his mind, waiting for Buffy to arrive. Hoping she would arrive.  
  
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Using every Slayer sense at her disposal, Buffy jogged through the town, sniffing out her prey.  
  
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Spike sighed. He had chickened out. He had gone left when he should have gone right. Oh well. Tomorrow would be another day.  
  
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Just as sleep was about to overtake the vampire, the familiar sound of stone slamming against stone filled the crypt.  
  
Spike startled awake, knowing instantly that it was Buffy. Who else could make such a wonderfully violent entrance? Wait. How did she know he was here?  
  
He jumped to his feet to happily greet her, only to see her business face and a stake, firmly clenched in her white-knuckled hand.  
  
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Nothing was going to distract her from this mission. Nothing. Not a single word was going to come out of his mouth. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of having the last word. Hers would be the last. And that word would be: 'Die.'  
  
Buffy put all remembrances of his cool, hard body out of her mind. All the times he'd let her vent. All the times she'd confided in him. She purposely pretended as if they did not exist. To kill this man, she'd have to treat him like an animal. The animal that he was.  
  
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Sam could see the murder in her eyes. He stood up suddenly, preparing to jump in between them.keep her away from the blonde man. But he found his body a bit off balance and tripped on the stone, managing to.well.fall onto the floor and bounce twice before coming to a stop. So, there he sat, staring at the flaming green eyes of one Buffy Summers, and her looking right back at him.  
  
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Buffy's lunge straight to Spike's heart was interrupted by a flash of pink falling just inside her peripheral vision. She turned her head briefly to see what it was.  
  
"Mr. Gordo? You stole my Mr. Gordo?! You are one sick, twisted bastard!"  
  
Spike, startled to hear her voice with so much hatred, uttered the first word that came to mind. "Buffy."  
  
"Don't 'Buffy' me! You go off, to God knows where, in the middle of an apocalypse."  
  
"Apocalypse!?"  
  
Buffy raised her hand, shoving her palm in his face. "Don't interrupt!"  
  
He immediately shut his mouth, and backed off an inch or two. Boy, was she pissed.with good reason. He had attacked her, then left her to wage another great battle alone, apparently. Spike wondered what the hell was wrong with him.  
  
".in the middle of an apocalypse, only to return months later without your chip, and killing humans again!" What was she talking about? Spike opened his mouth to protest, only to meet with her palm and a truly evil look. "And then, you have the nerve to start stalking me again. I mean, come on, Spike." She laughed bitterly, trying to maintain what was left of the self- control she had harnessed before she left the house. "We've been through this before. You're Evil. I. Can't. Love. You. And no amount of lurking, or peeping, or pilfering of my stuff is going to change that." All pretenses of effecting a cold, efficient kill went right out the window as she began pacing, actually turning her back to him. "Jeez, Spike! You stole my stuffed pig, for God's sake!" Her voice was beginning to falter, but Spike remained silent, just assessing the situation. "Would you stop it! Just stop it!" She faced him once again, obviously pained, and in an emotional place Spike recognized from last fall. "This isn't new to me, you know. Someone I lo.trusted, turning evil. I mean, what is it with you men? Huh?!" Three tears rolled down her cheek, but she didn't notice. "It has to be me. It has to be. If I don't drive them away, I turn them evil. I wouldn't be surprised if you were also gay now!"  
  
Spike regarded her with a gentle head tilt as tears streamed down her face. Her digression was highly amusing, exposing more of her inner self than she would ever reveal voluntarily, but he did not dare show his mirth. Not after seeing the earlier hatred in her eyes.  
  
"Now, sniff I have to kill you. I thought I'd never have to do this again. You." She roughly dragged a forearm over her soaked face, now terribly embarrassed at her emotional outburst. ".You.you.sniff"  
  
Seizing control of her momentary break, Spike warmly approached her with his head fully tilted to the side and spoke with the tenderness one would use with a child. ".have a soul."  
  
At that, her sobs slowed and she looked up at his face. Such a calm, serene face. A face any woman would yearn to wake up to each morning. When she failed to comment, he continued. "I wasn't hurting that bird. I was protecting her."  
  
Suspicious eyes bore into his, only to recognize the truth held within the blue orbs.  
  
Spike slowly took her hand in his, keeping eye contact the entire time. "I left to change myself. To make myself trustworthy. Worthy of your friendship. Worthy of your love, should you ever decide to." He moved his face as close to hers as he could, still looking in her eyes. His voice was barely a whisper as his breath tickled Buffy's nose. "Stake me, if you wish. But not for the wrong reasons." One last, lone tear escaped and Spike wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.  
  
They stood nose to nose for more than several moments. Would she make the decision to play the part of Slayer, or that of Buffy?  
  
A small, pink head turned, undetected, toward the couple. Yet again, this was a moment of truth for Sam. He had never actually failed in an assignment before, but he suddenly became awfully curious as to how he would be able to live the rest of his life as a stuffed pig, set upon a pillow. 'Things could be worse.' He reminded himself. 'Buffy could be a toddler, drooling on my head and chewing on my feet.' The vision played out in his mind until the sound of the imaging chamber door stole his attention.  
  
Al stood in silence, regarding the couple, and consulting the hand link from time to time.  
  
"Well?" Sam whispered.  
  
Just as Al was about to report Ziggy's inability to settle on a statistic for success, Spike's ears picked up the whisper and turned to look at Mr. Gordo, perplexed. Where had he come from?  
  
He looked back at Buffy the Slayer, wondering why the little piggy was on his floor, only to meet her lips with his own. She had taken his head in her hands and finally made her decision. Buffy, the young woman, it would be.  
  
Beneath her lips, his smiled.  
  
Al grinned, then gave his partner his standard parting words. "Goodbye, Sam."  
  
Sam smiled a wonderfully huge smile and uttered one last word before the blue light engulfed him: "Oink!"  
  
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The End 


End file.
